Revoltingly Young (34 page)

“
Why should I get involved in your private argument, Jake? If you guys want to tangle, what business is that of mine?”

“
But he intended to kill me!”

“
Yeah, that had me a little worried. These trailer walls are way too flimsy to stop a bullet. I had to duck down onto my floor.”

So it appears I’m not the only sociopath employed by this circus.

Joe College also made me promise that I would cease all communications with Vrsula Herczegh. The irony is that yesterday she told me she didn’t much care for the new guy. She indicated through signs and gestures that she found him pushy, arrogant, and conceited. She feels she could never respect someone who got up in front of an audience with an act that inept. Like most professional showmen, she regards the circus as no place for amateurs.

Mr. Povey was delighted to have me back. After I donned my apron and ceremonial hairnet, he pointed to a 100-pound sack of potatoes and said, “Now maybe we can get some work done around here.”

8:14 p.m. I haven’t been arrested yet, although I’m not sure jail could be much worse than life in the commissary trailer. I didn’t catch this afternoon’s show (being ensnared in dinner preparations), but I heard the Lurrietas did a modified act without their dad. Later I was able to steal away for a five-minute chat with Miren. She looked tired but relieved that the worst was over. She reported that the hospital found traces of a common date-rape drug in her father’s system.

“
Why would anyone do that to my father, Jake?”

I shuffled my feet and looked mortifyingly guilty. “I don’t know, Miren. What did your father say?”

“
He hasn’t been much help. The last thing he remembers is drinking too many cognacs with Alfredo Nunez in his trailer.”

“
Nothing after that–at all?”

“
Unfortunately not. The doctor said that memory lapses are a common side effect of that drug–especially in large doses.”

“
Oh, that’s, uh, interesting. Do the cops suspect the dwarf?”

“
They’ve interrogated him twice. But he’s one of my father’s oldest friends. The families have known each other for generations.”

“
What did Alfredo say?”

“
He said that after my father left he saw him talking to Randy. I don’t know why Randy would come back to harm my father, but after seeing what he did to you, I suppose he’s capable of anything.”

“
Are the cops looking for Randy?”

“
They put a bulletin out for his arrest. But I’m not sure they’re that interested.”

“
Why’s that?”

“
We’re transients, Jake. The police don’t much care what happens in circuses–as long as no locals are involved or get harmed. I think they just want us to leave town. And how have you been, Jake?”

“
Tremendous, Miren,” I said, sneaking a kiss. “Never better.”

10:26 p.m. Still no call from Veeva. I’m beginning to worry she’s been nailed as a runaway by the French cops. Or angry Sheeni has locked her up in that dingy storage room down in her cellar and intends to starve her slowly to death to safeguard her darkest secret. All I know is, it’s very unlike Veeva not to call with gossip as potentially explosive as she’s been tracking.

Something in France is clearly amiss!

THURSDAY, September 22 – We jumped this morning to Gillette, Wyoming. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to leave a town. You might say it was a bit of a close shave. All the Lurrietas came with us, although Mrs. Lurrieta still had to drive their truck. Her husband, riding shotgun in the front seat, seemed pretty perky. He looked right at me as their rig pulled out, and didn’t appear at all eager to murder me.

We’ve left the scenic forests and mountains behind. Gillette is a stark high-plains town that’s booming from all the coal mines in the area. I’m feeling right at home here–nearly everyone in this burg lives in a mobile home. Grandma, to her credit, tries to grow a few roses around hers. These folks just park their trailers on the barren prairie and consider themselves moved in.

I took a shower this morning, and I must say, our doniker was not looking its best. Joe College seems most perfunctory in his toilet swabbing. Only the mirrors are kept polished so he can style his wavy locks. Mrs. Patsatzis seems to like him though. The rumor is she’s already weighing him as a potential suitor for some of her less-attractive nieces.

Even though I receive a fair amount of kidding in my job, I’ve been trying to remember not to smile. A guy wearing a hairnet, sporting a fading black eye and an ugly lip scab, and sheathed in a grungy apron can’t afford to be flashing a diseased-looking front tooth. If I had the money, I could get it encrusted with diamonds ala Carlyle Bogy. For now, I try not to smile or I cover my mouth with my hand when I do. I noticed Miren tried to avoid staring at it this morning when I served her the A-grade bacon. She’s probably having second thoughts. I imagine she’s wondering why a pretty girl like herself is hanging out with a beast like me.

Only three days until our next session “in church.” I hope she doesn’t duck out on our date, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she does.

Still no call from Veeva and she’s not answering her phone. I feel such a sense of dread. I fear something terrible has happened. Or is about to.

7:48 p.m. I was serving salisbury steak and mashed potatoes to the dinner line, when I looked up and there standing in front of me was my brother.

“
Hi, Noel,” he said.

“
Hi, Nick. You talked to Veeva, huh?”

“
Yes, she told me where to find you.”

“
Where is she now?”

“
In Paris with her father. Things are going to be OK, Noel. Don’t worry.”

“
Uh, right.”

“
I’ll talk to you later, Noel. Don’t go anywhere, OK?”

“
OK, Nick. You better move along though. You’re holding up the line.”

That’s the last I’ve seen of my brother. Ever since then he’s been holed up with the Lurrietas in their trailer. They didn’t even show up for the evening performance, obliging Joe College to fill in with more excruciating juggling.

What I can’t figure out is how Nick knew it was me who poisoned Mr. Lurrieta. I mean, I haven’t spoken to Veeva since before the whole thing happened. And why is my brother butting in now? I thought I had that rap beat. Jesus, I can’t believe he traveled all the way from Paris to Wyoming just to track me down and wreck my life.

But I suppose that’s what Twisps are for.

FRIDAY, September 23 – The clatter of a diesel engine woke me up in the middle of the night. This morning we discovered that Señor Nunez had pulled out, trailer and all. Some may miss him, but I won’t.

More bad news on the incest front. It turns out I’ve been a naughty uncle again. No, Veeva is not the long-lost daughter of Sheeni Saunders. That honor belongs to Miren and Nerea Lurrieta. Yes, the illustrious Twisp family now embraces a couple of skilled acrobats. I got the whole story and met my new relatives last night in their trailer. I even got a jovial hug from Mr. Lurrieta, who I may now be related to in some convoluted way. That may explain why we recently tried to murder each other.

I feel it’s promising for my genetic makeup that my brother has such good-looking children. He claims they look remarkably like Sheeni, although you can’t prove it by me since I’ve never met the chick. They certainly don’t look much like him–not that there’s much doubt now of their paternity. Nor do they much resemble Veeva, who is also said to take after Sheeni.

Mr. and Mrs. Lurrieta are being pretty gracious about my brother’s sudden
deus ex machina
arrival. They had informed their daughters they were adopted, but were led to believe by Señor Nunez (who had engineered the adoption) that the girls’ natural parents had no interest in them. They seem rather proud that their daughters’ biological father turned out to be the celebrated juggler Nick Twisp.

Last night Miren and Nerea appeared mostly bewildered by the whole thing, but this morning when we all went out to breakfast in Gillette (Nick paid), they were yucking it up and getting to know their second father. He juggled some steak knives and sliced a donut into small pieces in mid-air. This feat drew a loud round of applause from everyone in the restaurant. Rather embarrassing, I thought, but then I’m not a show-off like he is.

2:27 p.m. I just had a long conversation with Veeva in Paris. It’s nighttime there and they’re already back from dinner. Young Nipsie’s going to have quite a daunting cell phone bill this month. I finally got through to her by screaming into the phone that I knew the whole story and to stop being a twit and pick up. She took my call and apologized for betraying me to my brother. I said it couldn’t be helped, and I’d decided not to despise her.

I filled her in on all the developments here, and she told me about the fascinating places that her aunt Sheeni has been showing her in Paris. Yes, they’re still buddies despite Veeva’s poking around into her aunt’s long-buried affairs. Sheeni says she feels like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. Her husband has been taking it like a man and wants to meet his new stepkids someday. Sheeni also has been complimenting Veeva’s French–saying it is much improved, even though Veeva still feels “totally spastic” in that language.

I said I was surprised that Sheeni was in Paris, and asked if she happened to run into Nick before he left.

“
She did more than run into him, Noel. We all went out to dinner one night.”

“
You did?”

“
Yes, and was it amazing. My father, Reina, Uncle Nick, Sheeni, and me. How’s that for a guest list?”

“
Pretty incredible. So how was it?”

“
I believe the operative word was tense. Very tense. Like every utterance carried this incredible baggage of drama. Of course, Uncle Nick was major annoyed at Sheeni for concealing the fact of his children all these years. Plus, things were crashing with him and Reina. And there was my father moving into the picture. Still, everyone was polite and no one threw any food. The fight for the check at the end got pretty vicious. Daddy won out, of course.”

“
Did Nick and Sheeni talk?”

“
Oh sure. They even looked at each other occasionally. One thing I heard her say is that if he had bothered to reply to that letter she sent him a few years ago, she might have told him about the twins. He didn’t, so she figured he didn’t care.”

“
I wonder why he didn’t reply?”

“
I expect it was to retaliate for all the pain she caused him. The thing is you could tell that Nick still loved her. I mean, it was blatantly obvious. I’m sure that was hard for Reina, who is totally great by the way. My father should have grabbed her back when he first met her.”

“
But then you wouldn’t be here, Veeva.”

“
Sure I would, Noel. I’d just have a nice mother instead of a raging bitch, who is probably going to kill me when I get back to L.A.”

“
Does Sheeni still love Nick?”

“
Of course not, Noel. The woman always moves on. Usually to something better too. It’s you guys who hang tough and won’t let go. My father has been carrying his torch for nearly as long as Nick. I’m just glad things are working out finally with him and Reina. I think my letter may have helped grease the wheels. I want Reina to adopt me and teach me Czech. Her kids are so cute and I guess we’ll all get used to her noisy birds–assuming my mother ever lets me back into France.”

“
So you’re not my niece after all.”

“
No, but I found you two new ones right there under your nose. Do you like them?”

“
Uh, sure. They’re nice.”

“
Are you sure? You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“
Well, I’m still getting used to the idea.”

“
My father told me some things I never knew about Sheeni.”

“
Like what?”

“
Like twins run in the Saunders family. Sheeni had a little twin brother who died 13 days after they were born. Daddy thinks that’s why she couldn’t quite bring herself to have an abortion. That dwarf clown gave her a way to have her babies and hide out from her parents–so she grabbed it. Then he helped arrange the adoption with this childless couple that he thought would make good parents.”

“
If Alfredo was so fucking helpful, why was he being such a bastard with us?”

“
I asked Sheeni about that. She thinks he’d developed very paternal feelings toward those twins and resented the Twisp side coming back into the picture. She used to write to him and once in a while would include a family photo.”

“
So that’s how he got your baby picture?”

“
Right. My aunt didn’t say so, but I think she was curious about her babies and wanted to know if they looked like me. Anyway, Sheeni told me something else interesting too.”

“
What’s that?”

“
Her little brother’s name was Frank. It always made her uncomfortable when Nick was raving about how much he loved Frank Sinatra. Of course, then she goes and marries a man named François.”

“
I don’t see the connection.”

“
I forgot. I always have to connect the dots for you, Noel. The French version of Frank is François.”

“
Oh. That’s kind of sick.”